FROM CORDOKA$TO CATHAY.

my first foray. One May morning, attended by the gardener José, whom I had
engaged as my guide, I left the quaint cottage in old Granada, where I had
taken lodging, crossed the beautiful grove of elms to the Alhambra, and thence
down the Darro, through the half-sleeping city of Granada, seeking the distant.
hills. Had I but the time and space I
should like to tell of the beauties of the
palace we left behind, and the elm grove
in which I have heard the nightingales
singing at midnight, as well as the golden-
sanded Darro, down the right bank of
which we strolled until it took its last
plunge beneath the arches that span it
and finally hide it from view beneath the

vivarambla— the favorite rambling-place Chg le

of the Moors. It was delightfully cool in

the grove, where the birds were twittering preparatory to their matin music,
and until we were well out upon the plain beyond Granada we did not feel the
heat of the sun.

Three hours later we were reclining at the foot of the tower, which is locally
known as the Atalaya of Arbolote, and from which we had a view outspread that
rewarded us for our long and somewhat dusty walk. Nearly all the Vega lay un-
rolled before us. At our feet lay the remains of the old Roman Ilora, dating from
a period near the birth of Christ ; beyond, Granada, dark in the valley, with the

Hill of the Sun, crowned by the Al-
- ,. hambra, above it; and still beyond,
: a the shining crests of the Sierra Ne-
fers vada, broadly breasting the sun

 

  
  

  

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—‘‘like silver shields new-burnished for display.”
i

2 As in the time of Columbus, so it.
is now: smiling plain, dark masses of
olive-trees, silver threads of streams
coursing emerald meadows, frowning
battlements capping the Alhambra
hill, and glistening snow-peaks lying against the sky. Columbus saw all this,
and though he has left no description of the scene, its beauty did impress him,
for in his voyagings through the island-dotted seas, over which we shall follow
him, he constantly recurs to the charms of Andalusia.

But Granada and the Alhambra we have left behind; before us, seen in the
distance far across the beautiful Vega, lies a city seldom visited by strangers,
a city sleeping in the memories of the past, and with no tie connecting it with
the present. It is Santa Fé, the City of the Holy Faith.

A DISTANT VIEW OF SANTA FE.